Do you remember the party game where you had a tray of twenty objects that you studied for about a minute, then the tray was taken away and an object removed and you had to say which one? I usually won (I remembered things in alphabetical order).
I’ve said in several posts how we like to people watch as we sit drinking our coffee in the High Street or just sitting in a park eating lunch as we did when we went to Stratford-Upon-Avon earlier this week.
With Hubby being ex security, he tends to perhaps notice a little more than most people though.
For instance, years ago alarm bells were ringing big time when he saw a young woman pushing an empty pushchair but with no child anywhere near her. She kept looking over at a man stood on the pavement opposite who was carrying a holdall and a mobile phone.
We both noticed the Money Wagon about to pull up outside a bank.
Hubby went in and spoke to the security guard on duty.
As he left, he heard him speak into his radio, and the van drove off.
We passed the Man and Woman in the subway, still no child, and the holdall was in the pushchair.
I’m pretty good at recognising dogs and remembering their names as well as the faces of the people and boat they belong to.
Here in the Marina we noticed that a berth had been unoccupied for some months. However, we couldn’t recall the name of the boat that used to be moored there until we passed it on another Marina two weeks ago when we went up river.
The classic in observation for me though has to do with my late brother-in-law, a nice guy, and ex navy who had one of the bushiest (and softest) beards I’ve ever known.
I should point out here that I do not like facial hair on men and as a child would not kiss my Dad’s ‘hedgehog cheek’ goodnight if he hadn’t shaved (how I’d love to kiss that cheek, bristly, hairy or otherwise now).
It was also jet black and totally in contrast to his greying hair.
For some reason I cannot recall, I visited my sister regularly for about two weeks.
On my last visit, I asked her if her husband was OK as he looked thinner somehow.
She told me he was fine, though he had lost a little weight.
I was still concerned but couldn’t put my finger on it, so asked him outright if he was ill.
He laughed at me and said no, but pleased that I’d noticed something different.
Perhaps it was his new shirt? Or maybe his new glasses? His hair cut?
He then added that he’d shaved his beard off a fortnight before, so maybe that was it.